I ran into a friend of mine at the market last week. I hadn't seen her in about six months. She jumped up to give me a hug ... and our tummies collided.
Now, understand, it's not unusual for my tummy to collide with things. I haven't managed to keep my girlish figure over the years. Some guys my age have "six-pack" abdominal musculature. I have enjoyed enough six packs to have your basic "keg" on the go.
But my tummy had never before collided with this woman's tummy. Although, quite clearly, somebody's tummy had, because she was definitely probably pregnant.
I pulled out of the hug and was just about to ask her when she was due when I got this ringing in my ears. At first I thought it was an old head injury kicking in - but then I realized the ringing came from those alarm bells that sound when I'm about to say something tragically stupid. The older I get, the more often those alarm bells sound, occasionally even in time for me to shut up. It's called experience.
And my experience tells me you never, ever, under any circumstances, discuss a woman's pregnancy with her until she openly and freely admits to being pregnant. Of her own accord. In front of witnesses. In writing.
Oh, I wasn't always this wise. That's how you gain experience, by doing stupid things like congratulating someone on what you assume to be pregnancy. And hearing the five most dreaded words in the English language, "Thanks, but I'm not pregnant."
(Well, okay, technically, the five most dreaded words in the English language are "Honey, we need to talk." But as a phrase, "Thanks, but I'm not pregnant" ranks right up there in the top three.)
I've heard those words. Several times. If there's a worse feeling in the human experience, I don't ever want to know what it is.
"Thanks, but I'm not pregnant."
It's what you call a conversation stopper. I've never yet heard a graceful exit from that situation. I was at a dance once and a woman came rushing up to congratulate someone in our group for being pregnant. We all knew that she wasn't, and our stomachs all sank at the same time. You could actually hear the gurgles. I wanted to walk away, but there's something fascinating about witnessing the compete and utter destruction of a human being, so we all stood there as our friend said the five words. "Thanks, but I'm not pregnant."
If twelve backhoes worked eighteen hour shifts for a year they still couldn't begin to dig a hole deep enough for that poor mistaken woman to crawl into.
It wasn't her fault. Our friend was wearing a loose dress, and the way it fell on her tummy, she could have been pregnant. Sadly, in this world we live in "could be" is a long way from "is". About as far away as "happy" is from "horribly embarrassed".
When I saw that, I vowed never again to ask about or even hint at the thought that a woman might be pregnant. And so - in a memorable first - I kept my big yap shut.
Turns out, my friend is pregnant and she's due early in the summer. I'm delighted for her, and I can't wait to talk to her about how exciting it all is. Which I'll do the minute I get a signed statement from her or her doctor.
Hey - you can't be "a little bit" careful.
